by Hart, Stella
Taken
Original Sin Book 1
Stella Hart
Copyright © 2019 by Stella Hart
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
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Prologue
1. Jolie
2. Mason
3. Jolie
4. Mason
5. Jolie
6. Jolie
7. Mason
8. Mason
9. Jolie
10. Mason
11. Jolie
12. Mason
13. Jolie
14. Jolie
15. Mason
16. Jolie
17. Jolie
18. Mason
More Information
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Prologue
Jolie
NOW
Sometime in November, 2018…
Somewhere in Louisiana…
“Wake up.”
A deep voice sounded from above me as a rough hand shook my left arm. I did my best not to wince from the fingertips digging into the deep purple bruises there, and I kept my eyes firmly shut. Maybe the insane man who’d taken me captive would finally leave me alone if I pretended to be asleep.
“I said, wake up.”
A jet of freezing water hit me in the face. I yelped and got up, skittering to the far side of the mattress before cowering away from the hose. “I’m awake,” I muttered.
It was dim in my cage. Or cell. I hadn’t really decided what to call it yet.
Despite the lack of light, I knew it probably wasn’t the middle of the night. I had no idea what the time was, though. It could be morning, noon, or evening, and I wouldn’t know. Considering where this place was in relation to the main house, there was no way for me to tell. Not unless the tiny TV in the corner was on, and it wasn’t right now.
My mysterious captor had presumably put the TV there so I wouldn’t completely lose my mind in this place. It went on for around two hours a day, and then it switched off again. Still, even with that, I’d managed to lose track of time. I didn’t even know what day of the week it was anymore.
“I knew you were faking it,” the masked man said. “Although that isn’t surprising, given your history. Lying little slut.”
He let out a low chuckle. There was no mirth in it, only mockery and bitterness. I thought he might spray me with the hose again, but instead, he stepped back and opened the barred cell door with his code. Then he stood behind the bars, lurking in the darkness and watching me as I cowered on the bed. Behind him was a set of stairs which led out of this hellhole.
I would never reach them. I’d long since given up on that hope. When I discovered the nature of my prison several days ago, I realized it would be impossible to escape.
I drew in a shaky breath and crawled off the mattress. The man would probably get angry—or angrier, I should say—at me if I tried to walk or show any sign of strength whatsoever.
On my side of the barred partition, there was a tray with a plate of food and a cup of water. Meager rations. Dirty crockery. I didn’t care. I stayed crouched by the tray and gulped down the water before starting on the food.
“It’s a shame I have to bother keeping you fed,” the man muttered. I couldn’t see his face behind the black mask, but somehow I could still tell he was glaring at me malevolently.
“Why do it then?” I murmured between bites of plain oatmeal.
He didn’t respond. I finished the food and pushed the tray through the bottom of the barred partition for the man to take away. Then I sat back on the cold floor, waiting for him to leave.
This time, he didn’t. My heart began to thud. That meant he was probably here to hurt me again, not just feed me.
On one side of the cell, there was a large mirror taking up a portion of the wall. I had a feeling the man had put it there so I would be forced to see what he’d done to my body whenever I was awake.
I looked over at my reflection now. I saw a shivering young woman, pale skin a bright contrast with the gloom surrounding her. A bruised and battered body, matted hair that was once silky, peeling lips that were once soft and pink.
Even though I’d lost track of time, I estimated that I’d been here for somewhere around a week and a half. Two weeks at the very most. The man who’d kidnapped me and tortured me was always covered from head to toe in black, and his voice was always muffled behind his mask. I had absolutely no idea who he was.
I had a feeling I knew who the mastermind behind my captivity was, though.
I’d spent many of my formative years at the New Eden commune, in bondage to a group of sadistic men who abused me and many others for their own sick, twisted pleasure, using a fake religion as a cover. I knew I couldn’t suffer it all over again, so after my escape many years ago, I’d made a vow to myself. I will never be a captive again.
And yet, here I was. I’d come full circle. I was a captive then, and I was a captive now. Like it was my fate.
I guess I’d slipped. I hadn’t been careful enough to avoid danger despite my vow. The men I thought were long-dead must somehow still be alive, and they must’ve paid this strange man to kidnap and torture me; break me down until they were ready to take me back into the fold.
The masked stranger crouched to my level. In the dim light, I could see his eyes gleaming maliciously under the mask. “Still such a pretty girl,” he said softly. “It’s a real shame.”
“Please tell me why I’m here,” I said. I’d asked a thousand times since I was taken, but I couldn’t resist doing it again. I was desperate. “Are you from the Path of the Covenant?”
“You’ll find out who I am soon.”
“Just tell me now!”
He reached through the bars with one arm and coiled his big gloved hand around my neck, squeezing me hard. “Don’t tell me what to do, you little bitch.”
He wrenched the hand away and stood up again. I fell backwards, gasping as I struggled to regain my breath.
One hand went behind my captor’s head to scratch an itch. His mask slipped slightly and I caught sight of the left side of his face. It was deeply scarred, but I still knew exactly who it was in an instant.
The man I once loved.
The man I once thought I’d marry.
Mason Ashwood.
Eyes wide and heart pounding, I stared up at him. “You,” I whispered. “Oh my god… it’s you.”
Horrible images filled my head at the realization of his presence. I thought of blood. Knives. Scars. Venomous snakes.
Most of all, I thought of fire. I pictured the raging, destructive flames which were supposed to cleanse the wicked, freeing them from their sins. I even smelled the smoke and the acrid scent of burning flesh for a second.
I wanted to vomit.
I leaned forward and took a deep breath, pressing one hand to my belly. I hoped the warmth of my skin would relieve the roiling in my guts, but my hand was freezing cold, and the shock from that made me feel even sicker.
“Why now?” I choked out. “It’s been eight years.”
“Why the fuck do you think?” Mason snarled. “I had to wait. I wasn’t given much of a choice.”
“But why?” I shook my head. “Why have you taken me? I don’t understand.”
“You can’t be serious.” He let out a de
risive sniff. “Stop playing dumb. I remember that brain of yours. When you weren’t all messed up on fucking tranquilizers, you were a smart girl.”
I shrank back and closed my eyes as another awful image of cascading blood and encroaching darkness appeared in my mind. Oh, god…
“You found out what I did to you, didn’t you?” I said in a small voice. “You know.”
“Yes.”
I rubbed my eyes, hoping that would somehow dispel the images from my head. Then I looked at the gray floor, trying to find my next words.
For years now, I’d thought about what would happen if I ever saw this man again. I’d wondered if I would be too afraid to approach him, or if instead I’d be able to work up the courage to tell him what I did before falling to my knees and begging for his forgiveness.
Apparently, he already knew every detail of my betrayal, and he didn’t forgive me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered anyway.
“Bit late for that now.”
“I know.”
He leaned down again. “You tried to get rid of me.” He shook his head in disgust. “You killed my fucking family,” he went on in a low, dangerous voice.
“No… please…”
“Yes.”
“I… It was a mistake,” I said in a broken whisper. “Please, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t care.”
I went silent for another moment. Then I looked up at him, eyes wide and fearful. “What are you going to do to me?”
“I’m going to punish you. You deserve every ounce of pain,” he said. “When I have what I want from you, I’ll end it.”
I knew what that meant, and it wasn’t that he would finally end the torture and free me.
“You’re going to kill me,” I said in a flat voice.
He nodded. “Yes, Jolie. I’m going to kill you.”
Tears slid down my face, but I didn’t protest his words. I understood now.
I closed my eyes again as my mind drifted back in time. Of course this man wanted to punish me for the way I betrayed him all those years ago.
I deserved it.
I deserved it all.
1
Jolie
THEN
November 27th, 2010
New Eden Commune
“In the old times, before the great fires which ravaged the world and laid waste to the worst of humanity, there was a Biblical saying: anyone who has died has been freed from sin.”
My father stood behind a large wooden pulpit, and his deep, commanding voice boomed out as he lectured us all once again on why we were here and what must happen soon. A gentle breeze ruffled his dark hair, which always stuck up in messy spikes no matter how much he combed it.
“Now, you all know we don’t go by the teachings of the old Book anymore. We follow His Word, which has been passed down to me from our almighty creator in visions and dreams. But in some cases, a saying from the old Book captures so perfectly what I want to say to all of you, my dearest flock, that I am compelled to repeat it.”
He lifted his hands up in the cool night air. My father was an interesting-looking man, and a lot of the women here found themselves drawn to him, but right now, his face looked utterly terrifying in the ominous shadows as firelight flickered all around us.
We were gathered outside in a ring of flaming torches; every member of the Path of the Covenant. It was a rare and momentous occasion, though not a joyous one.
Usually, the girls and women were only allowed out of the underground shelter for one day in spring each year for the mass weddings, and also for the occasional night-time festival the men might decide to hold. However, we were expected to come out for executions too. These events must be observed by every member of the church so that we could learn and grow from the sinner’s act.
Tonight, we had been brought up to witness the reckoning of Rebecca Brady. She was slightly older than me, somewhere around twenty or twenty-one, and she had recently been caught engaging in an act of the flesh with a man other than her husband. This sort of immorality could not be tolerated. Once a woman belonged to a man, she must submit only to him or the Elders, even during the communal Joining rituals.
Never to another.
The man she had been caught with, Eric Carmody, was unmarried. He was the same age as her. When they were caught together, they’d both begged and pleaded, trying to excuse their behavior. Rebecca said she didn’t want to be with her husband anymore, and Eric said he didn’t want to wait years to marry one of the much younger girls once she finally reached fruition and became a woman.
Eric had also allegedly told Rebecca some of our commune’s deepest secrets, which only the boys and men were permitted to know. Women did not have the intelligence or capacity to comprehend or handle this sort of information properly, so Rebecca’s tongue had been removed so that she would not be able to tell anyone what she had heard before her execution.
It was extremely fortunate that she hadn’t already shared what Eric passed on to her, because this would have led to an enormous catastrophe. Most of the girls and women would have lost their minds trying to comprehend the secrets, and it was a wonder Rebecca hadn’t lost hers already. She probably would soon, though, so it was a good thing she wouldn’t be with us for much longer.
Her husband was an Elder, and her crime of adultery was one of the worst things a woman could commit. For this, she would be burned.
Eric’s crime of spilling secrets to an unworthy female meant he faced an even worse fate than the cleansing fire. He had been banished from the safety of New Eden’s lands, and he would be forced to wander the Wastelands until the day he died.
It would be a terrible way to go. After all, most of the world had been scorched and poisoned by radiation when the bombs of the Great Reckoning came crashing down eleven years ago. Eric would likely wither and die in a horribly slow and agonizing manner.
If he had only stayed pure and followed the laws, he could have remained at New Eden instead. Our God had ensured the land on the ranch was protected from the nuclear fallout, so it was fine for the men to work the fields and spend most of their days above ground.
While it was safe for women to venture above ground on rare occasions, like now, it wasn’t safe to do it frequently. Our most important purpose in life (apart from serving men) was carrying and birthing babies, so it was too risky to let us above ground on a regular basis, in case any poisonous air or water just so happened to leak across the safety zone into our land. That could put the delicate female organs at risk.
My father droned on at his pulpit. “When a wife submits to her husband, when a girl carries out her father’s will, when a woman serves a man… that means we are all worshiping Him and his vision for the world. You have learned time and time again that these acts of submission must be done with a spirit of righteousness. But Rebecca Brady has chosen not to worship Him. She has chosen not to serve Him. She has chosen not to be righteous.”
I cast my gaze over to the pyre, which had been built off to the side of the pulpit. Rebecca was tied to a stake in the middle of it, her head lolling forward and her eyes closed. I knew she had sinned and she must pay the price for that, but I was still glad someone had been merciful enough to render her unconscious before the flames were set at her feet. I was not sure I could stomach the screaming if she was awake while the fire consumed her.
“However, Rebecca will soon be freed from her sins, and we will forgive her!” my father called out. He slammed his hand on the pulpit for dramatic effect. “Won’t we?”
The women and children murmured their assent. Across from us stood the men and the Elders, most of whom were staring at Rebecca with naked malice in their eyes. They hated her for what she had done.
Some of them actually looked amused at the idea of her impending death, though. Not hateful. I saw this expression in the older men quite frequently. It seemed as if they found great amusement in women’s suffering.
I knew why. We’d all learned fr
om His lessons that boys and men had a far greater level of intelligence than women, one which we could never hope to match, so we probably seemed like stupid, lumbering cows to them. It was no wonder, really, that they found it so funny to observe our mistakes and punishments. It was like watching an animal try and fail to learn a new trick, over and over again.
“We will also accept that it wasn’t entirely her fault,” my father went on. “All the women played a part in her sins, by virtue of their existence, and for this, they will be punished as well.”
We all nodded. Women were naturally sinful, so we had to be careful. Even our most private thoughts could have infected Rebecca’s mind with evil and caused her to stray onto the dark path.
“Elder Thibodeaux, you may light the pyre now!”
A tall man with gray hair and weathered skin picked up one of the flaming torches surrounding us and touched it to the bottom of the pyre. The dry materials caught alight instantly. I turned away and did my best to stop myself from being sick all over the grassy ground as the terrible scent of sizzling flesh and burning hair filled the air around us.
Someone nudged me and whispered in my ear. “Did you know about the two of them?”
I turned to see my friend Elena staring at me with wide eyes. Our close friend Lauren was standing right next to her, looking at me too.
I pressed my lips together for a moment. I did know about Rebecca and Eric. I also knew how bad this was, but I had not been able to force myself to come forward with the information.
